


I'm the invisbile man, who can't stop stairing at the mirror.

by WhattaCatchPeterick



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anorexia, Bulimia, Cute, Eating Disorder, M/M, self hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhattaCatchPeterick/pseuds/WhattaCatchPeterick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yeah. And your stupid ‘Lets text Patrick at ass’ o clock and pretend to have an eating disorder because we think he doesn’t plan was stupid.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm the invisbile man, who can't stop stairing at the mirror.

**Author's Note:**

> This one has been my favorite fic I have ever written. I wanna say this could be a trigger for disclaimer. :)

It’s not as if it just randomly occurred. Patricks terrible self-image and constant self-devaluing was apparent from the start. The start of Fall Out Boy, The start of middle school, Since the day he was born. He dealt with it quietly, healthy. But towards the end of Folie A Duex, he was fed up with the weight. He wasn’t going to be “Pete Wentz, Andy Hurley, Joe Trohman, and the fat blond boy.”

That’s about the time Patrick learned about _purging._

It wasn’t as if Patrick was oblivious to the fact purging was bad for his voice. He knew it was killing his throat. He purchased a little machine to soothe his aching mouth, and that helped. But Pete could still tell, he was catching on to everything.

The last concert they played in the spring was when everyone caught on. Well, everyone in the band knew. But this was the first time they couldn’t listen to Patricks lies. Joe walked in on Patrick in the private bathroom. The wretched gagging, heaving noise sung in the room. Joe looked down, hoping to himself it wasn’t Patrick. Begging to anyone he wouldn’t see those frayed jeans and converse on the floor. But he did.

“Yo Patrick, you okay man?” Which Joe knew was a stupid question.

But the noises stopped, he watched Patrick kneel back from under the stall. Joe knocked softly on the stall this time.

“Patrick?”

“Fine J-joe.” Patrick fumbled, trying to not let tears spill down to his voice. He didn’t hide his cries as well as he wanted, “I’ll be out in a second.”

Joe opened the door to the bathroom, debated leaving and never talking about this again, but decided pretending to leave and waiting to see if Patrick was okay was a better idea. Minutes passed, more heaving. Soft murmurs of

“Why am I so disgusting?”

Or

“What am I so repulsive?”

And even once,

“I want to die.”

It hurts to think about how much Patrick was hurting, and how no one tried to notice. Joe hurt more when he thought about how lonely it must be being Patrick. Forced to put up with everyone’s shit, while dealing with all of his. No wonder his lash outs are so bad.

Then everything stopped. Joe listened in on the few sniffles that rose from the stall. The click of the lock. He watched the slow movements of the short boy as he shuffled to the sink. Patrick looked in the mirror with enough hatred to kill a man. That is, until he saw Joe pushed against the bathrooms door.

“Hey.” Joe says

“Hi.” Patrick replies quietly, washing his red hands.

“You feeling okay?”

“Fine.” Patty snapped back, fast enough to almost cut off Joes words.

“You threw up…”

“Food here is bad.”

“You say the food everywhere is bad.”

“It always is.” Patrick shakes his hands once, twice; then heads to the paper towels.

“You have red eyes like you have been crying.”

“I cry when I puke, it’s normal. Now any other questions about my throw up?” Patrick snapped.

“Patrick this isn’t safe.”

“What isn’t safe?” Patricks voice rose, fearful of Joe’s next words.

“Making yourself puke.”

Patricks face dropped to the timid face of a child who had just been caught stealing a pack of gum from the store.

“I didn’t.”

“Yeah. You did.”

“You weren’t in there with me! You wouldn’t know!” Patrick screamed out.

“Let’s see your hand then!” Joe was yelling now too.

“Fuck you!” With that, Patrick pushed Joe and walked out of the bathroom. Mumbling disgruntled words of; “This is my body. I do what I want.”

\---

Days later Joe finally got the courage to tell Pete, Relaying all the details. All the words Patrick spoke, all the self-hatred in his eyes. Pete could hardly comprehend Joe. Never once had Patrick shown any signs of this. Never talked about it, never shown weight loss honestly. Pete hoped that Patrick was wearing his clothes baggy because it was comfortable, and not a way of hiding from everything that hurt…

Pete decided an undercover mission was to be operated. He would pretend to also be bulimic, A term him and Joe had just learned from a ravenous game of google.

“So what do we do?” Joe asked as the room covered in silence.

“Maybe if he thinks I am bulimic too, he will talk to me.”

“I could see that working, somehow...”

And this is how our lovely young men decided to send a text message to Patrick at 2 a.m.

_‘Hey P-trick!’_

They wait 5 minutes.

_‘What.’_

“What should I say?” Pete asked softly, as if the text message can hear him and will relay their plot via the phone.

“Say you made yourself puke!”

_‘I mde myslf puk’_

“You could have been a little subtle you know?” Joe laughed softly, all but forgetting how serious their rock star lives had become.

_‘You talked to Joe didn’t you.’_

Both boys stared at the text. Guessing that yes, this situation would have been better if Pete’s brash thinking didn’t get in the way of everything.

_‘No. Jst wnted 2 tll u.’_

10 minutes go by in silence.

_‘Why?’_

“Shit what do I say now?”

“Uhhh say something like you have a stomach ache! Oh wait say your hand hurts, I remember his was all red and blotchy after!”

“Oh smart!”

_‘It jst my han hrts rlly bad .Lyke my han brns. ’_

“Oh ask him if he knows how to fix it!”

“Smart!”

_‘It jst my han hrts rlly bad. Lyke my han brns. Know anythng I can do 2 fx it???”_

They wait again for what seems like years until Pete’s phone light’s up.

_‘Stop texting will help, Don’t make yourself sick Pete. It is not cool. You are skinny enough, you don’t need to work to be attractive Pete, you aren’t me.’_

Joe turns to hug Pete who is staring blankly at the phone, not believing what Patty said, and not believing his plan worked. Pete was about to hit reply when he got another text.

_‘*Pete you aren’t like me, Andy, and Joe.’_

Patricks excuse was pathetic to Pete, Patrick learned all the ‘I fucked up a text, let’s try to cover it up’ moves from Pete. But Patrick was stubborn.

A few minutes of silence goes by, the itching of tension eating at Pete and Joe. It was too much for Joe. He asked quietly, “What do we say now?”

“I…. I unno.” Pete shrugged, not in the ‘I don’t care’ way Pete normally does though.

20 minutes go by before his phone lights up, starts ringing Patricks special ringtone. Pete always picks up instinctively. Joe didn’t make a sound, making sure Patrick wouldn’t hear.

“Hi.” Pete worded softly.

“Hey, I know you know. And I know Joe told you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And your stupid ‘Lets text Patrick at ass’ o clock and pretend to have an eating disorder because we think he doesn’t plan was stupid.”

Pete could feel Patrick to air quotations even through the phone.

“Sorry, I was just worried.”

“Well as of today, I will stop.”

“Good!” Pete squealed happily.

“Yeah so good night.”

“Night!” Pete hung up happily, his emotions high thinking that he made Patrick stop doing this. Until Joe spoke, “Do you think he will really stop?”

Pete’s insomnia really seemed to act up the next few days as he lied awake hoping that Joe was wrong and he will stop.

And for the most part he did. Patrick let Joe or Pete go to the bathroom with him. Never let him room by himself, made sure he ate his food. Everything was going to plan, of course until Patrick learned you could live off 900 calories.

Patrick said he was trying to eat healthier foods. Saying that and working out was going to help him get lean again. And that made Pete happy. So happy he encouraged Patrick. Thinking when he ate vegetables instead of pizza that it was normal dieting.

Patrick was off for a run; Joe was with Andy at Chucky Cheese. So Pete decided it was time to play snoop.

He has done it a lot, going through peoples things so he could tease them about it later in the day when the heat was bad.

He walked to Patricks bunk first. Like always. He never found anything worthwhile, except maybe a cute love note that slept inside his note book. Pete loved to read Patricks writing, even though Patrick hated it. So that was Pete’s mission, find and read the note book of Sir Patrick M. Stump.

He flipped through one, finding nothing but doodles of zombies and cats. Pete almost retreated to Andy’s bunk, but as he jumped off Patricks bunk, his hand knocked the pillow. It spilling on the floor to reveal another note book. It looked so finely taken care of, so it must be special to Pat.

Pete opened it so kindly, as if it were an old book in the library, not some crumby notebook from the dollar store. A few doodles again. Until about 5 pages in this lived a chart. _Titled good foods, and bad foods._ Good foods had about 3 things, but bad foods were covered in everything from Milk to Pasta.  
                Petes breath hitched as he turned the page. Reading how much Patrick has been eating. Patrick left little notes on the bottom about how much he hated himself for every food he consumed. Every extra calorie. Pete want’s to say that was the worst. But the bottom of the page where it was he had 200 calories that day, and next to Patrick called himself worthless, was definitely the worst.

Petes original plan after viewing this notebook was to drop it, run to Patrick, shove food/plants/children down his throat so he would be full, and rub his tummy because… well that’s what Pete deemed correct in this situation.

Before Pete could seek out a prime rib or a small child, he heard a soft tap on the wall next to him, he jumped and dropped the notebook on the floor underneath him.

“H-hey Patrick! Hey pal, buddy, friend,” Pete’s stuttering all over, “Why are you in here?”

“I live on the bus too dear.” Patrick laughed, his smile could literally reflect the sun, could make Pete _almost_ forget about the notebook.

Patrick reached down to pick up the notebook, from this angle Pete could really see how broken Patrick was. Eyes sunk deep, shaking slightly, wincing at picking up a simple notebook- Right the notebook! Pete thought to himself, trying to figure out the best way to play it off.

But that really isn’t what Pete wants to do.

Patrick about handed Pete the notebook, until he realized this book was his. He looked hurt and mad, betrayed and frail.

“Pete, why are you going through my things?” Patrick spit at Pete.

“I don’t think I am the one in trouble.”

“What?”

“You heard me; I will end this tour if you don’t eat like a normal person.”

“I do what I want, you can’t control me. This isn’t like the band, this is mine and I won’t let you take that away from me too.” Patrick whined, clutching the notebook to his chest, hiding his face behind the black composition hoping to simply melt and be gone.

Pete was shocked, he had never realized what he was doing to Patrick, never realized how neglected he made Patrick. It took him almost a minute to kneel down , and another minute to piece together the proper function to hold Patricks crying body. And when he does he feels it, he feels how small he was getting, hidden behind the large clothes lived thinning Patrick. Pete hated that.

Patrick sobbed softly, letting everything he has been holding in out, “Why Pete? Why can’t I be like you? Why can’t I be the center of photo’s? Why can’t I be what the girls and boys scream for?” Patrick was shaking rough now, continuing to moan low sorrows into Petes arms.

“Patrick you aren’t like me, because you are better.” Pete whispered, “You are amazing. Why do you hate yourself so much?” As Pete spoke, he chocked roughly on his words and held Patrick just a little closer than humanly possible.

“I hate myself because I am not you. I am pale, squishy, blond, boring, Patrick,” He paused catching his breath over the sniffles, “I’ll never be tan, skinny, dark handsome, interesting, sex god Pete.”

Pete has something funny to say about hair dye, but Patrick cut him off, “That day in the best buy parking lot. It wasn’t fair Pete, you have no reason to kill yourself. You aren’t like me Pete… You aren’t like me.” Patrick kept repeating that last part, nuzzled into Petes neck while Pete tried to soothe the shaking boy.

“No. Don’t you ever say that Patrick.” Pete pulled away to stare into Patricks eyes, “Nobody should ever hurt that way. No one deserves to attempt suicide in a best buy parking lot.” Pete softly smiled, which brought a gleam of life back into the sorrow blues of Patrick.

                That wasn’t enough for Pete, he wanted to see his Lunchbox gleam of happiness again. Real this time. Pete pressed their lips together. Something small, innocent. Patirck wasn’t responsive at first, so Pete pushed on.  Pushing feelings of love into the kiss; Real love, real desire, every hidden feeling he saved for Patrick. Patricks body began to kiss back, slowly bringing his hand up to frame Pete’s face. Pete began licking softly against Patricks lips.

“I love you Patrick, and I think you look amazing always.” Pete whispered, breaking away from the kiss only long enough to whisper his words.  Minutes went by, minutes of soft kisses and the lift of worries. Until Pete felt tears roll down the strawberry headed singers cheek.

“Whats wrong?”

“I’ve waited my whole life to sit on the floor of my tour bus, making out with some guy with flippy hair, and it took 24 years to achieve this.”

“Happy tears?” Pete smiled.

“Always.”

“Good because I don’t like when you are sick, and sad. You can hear it in the music. Hemmy doesn’t like it either.”

“Pete you are the worst boyfriend, you can’t discuss your dog during cute times.”

Pete gave Patrick a slanted grin, “Boyfriend? Cute times?”

Patrick lit up, and for this moment Pete and Patrick forgot all about the last half hour. They were there for each other. They will always be there for each other.

 


End file.
